


The Exhibition Match

by NightmareWalker



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-21
Updated: 2016-06-21
Packaged: 2018-07-16 11:00:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,536
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7265374
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NightmareWalker/pseuds/NightmareWalker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cassandra overhears a conversation between Sera and the Herald which leads to an interesting revelation.  Watching Trevelyan wield her weapons with such finesse and dexterity causes the Seeker to question herself and her ostensibly professional feelings.  Through trial and error, they get closer, with some helpful shoves from their companions. Rating for language, violence, and description of wounds.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Exhibition

**Author's Note:**

> So, I'm posting this here because Schnarf suggested I do so. Enjoy!

“No way! You’re lying, Inky, I know it!”

“I swear, Sera, I’m not!”

“…you really never done it in public?”

“I’ve never had a reason to.”

“Don’t need reason, just pull it out, shake it ‘round, yeah? Act like the big girl in the street, all better-than-you, bow-to-me, innit?”

Cassandra paused in the shadows of the Chantry, brow furrowed as she came within earshot of the conversation between Sera and the Herald. A disgusted sound echoed quietly in the relative quiet of the building as Sera laughed boisterously at some quiet comment Trevelyan made. “Last time I looked, size didn’ matter, just how ya use it, right? ‘sides, it looks plenty ‘nough to me. Keeps you tucked right in close, dunnit? Kinda the purpose, I’d suppose.”

“Yes, well, it’s no good to me if someone else gets a hold of it, you see?”

There was a momentary pause, then a hum of acknowledgment. “Don’t be a prig, Inky, show me for real!”

“Alright, Sera, alright. Meet me on the training field before lunch?”

“Yay!”

Cassandra heard the faint scrape of Sera’s boots on the dirt as she scampered away, then Trevelyan cleared her throat and chuckled. “You can come out now, Cassandra.” The Seeker startled and stepped out of the shadow, squinting in the light of the sun as the rogue grinned at her, sky blue eyes twinkling with mirth. “Did  
Sera suitably insult your sensibilities?”

“She is as crude as…as…” Cassandra felt her face heat as Trevelyan’s grin widened into a toothy lopsided smirk.

“As me?”

“I would not-”

“It’s true,” she interrupted, waving off Cassandra’s mortified sputtering. “Don’t worry, I won’t be offended by something that I know is true, and besides, great rogues think alike. I may be offended if you continue to look like you just ate some of Bull’s cooking, though.”

Cassandra felt her lips twitch and schooled her expression to careful neutrality. “I do not know what you are talking about.”

“Of course you don’t.” Trevelyan rolled her eyes and offered her elbow to Cassandra, who stared at it in confusion. “It’s my arm, my dear Seeker, not a snake. I promise I don’t bite – unless you ask, of course.”

Cassandra, who had just touched her light gloves to the crease of Trevelyan’s elbow, yanked her hand back and the Inquisitor laughed aloud, grasping her belly in mirth. Cassandra crossed her arms over her chest and snorted disdainfully, waiting for her to restrain her mirth.

Trevelyan finally straightened and wiped her eyes, fighting back another bout of laughter as she caught the Seeker’s unimpressed glare. “I’m sorry, but you – you have to admit, you kind of set yourself up for that one.” Cassandra rolled her eyes and walked away, listening as the rogue quickly caught her and fell into step at her side. “Where are we going?”

“I thought you wanted to take me somewhere, Herald.”

“For the last time, you are allowed to call me by my given name. I don’t know the last time I heard it, actually.”

“It would not be proper, Your Grace. We are colleagues, and if someone heard me being overly familiar, it could-”

“Offend their delicate sensibilities? Please, we both know the only ones who would actually give a rat’s arse would be the Orlesians, and we haven’t had any of them here for weeks.” The rogue grinned and Cassandra relaxed minutely, still refusing to make eye contact with the woman.

“Oh, c’mon, Cassandra, do I need to get on my knees and beg?” She tugged on Cassandra’s arm, turning her toward her, and her expression was positively impish. “I would, but I can think of much better things to do on my knees with you than beg.” Her fingers fluttered along Cassandra’s forearm, teasing her with the hint of nails before she withdrew. “Come, let’s get to my cabin, then to the training field. I believe I promised to show Sera a few things.”

Trevelyan led the way down the steps to the housing just below the Chantry, confident the Seeker would follow her out of sheer curiosity if nothing else. She left the door open for Cassandra to step through as she strode to a chest at the foot of her bed. She dug through the chest for something, muttering to herself as Cassandra stood uncomfortably just inside the door, feeling her palms slicken under her gloves. Her eyes roved the small space, noting the personal touches the rogue had added since her recovery immediately after the explosion. Small stones speckled with colorful ores, feathers, small skulls and trinkets she’d purchased from merchants dotted the shelves and window frames, catching the light and throwing rainbows across the well-worn floor. By her bed, Trevelyan made a victorious sound and withdrew a flat case from the bottom of the chest, setting it reverently at her side as she replaced everything. She stood and set the case on her bed, tracing the design decorating the varnished wood, and Cassandra crept closer with curiosity lightening her amber eyes.

“What is it?”

“The last thing my brother gave me before becoming a Templar,” she responded quietly.

“He was at the Conclave, was he not?”

“Aye, he came with his men to represent the Templars.”

Cassandra swallowed, felt guilt and sorrow threaten to overwhelm her as thoughts of the Herald’s family and Regalyan swam through her mind. She hesitantly set her hand on a bowed shoulder, eyes lowered respectfully, giving the rogue as much privacy as she could while remaining behind her. “I am sorry…Trevelyan. You loved him much?”

Long, loose blonde hair bobbed as the rogue nodded. “He was my hero. He gave me my first knife, taught me how to roll with the punches, was always at my side whenever I got in trouble for sneaking out of the house or making off with one of the stallions for an afternoon ride.” Trevelyan sniffed and set her palm on the case, thumb stroking the smooth wood with familiar ease. “He gave this to me on my sixteenth name day, told me he’d work with me on them, then I’d have to master it myself, as he was shipping out in three months’ time.

“That was the last time I saw him, before…before.” She bowed her head silently and Cassandra let her have her moment, hand still set on her shoulder in camaraderie. After a minute, Trevelyan raised her head and sighed, throwing a thankful, watery smile over her shoulder at the Seeker. “Alright, enough mush. Sera will have my arse if I don’t show up soon.”

She opened the case and Cassandra looked over her shoulder at the objects within. “What are they?” Her tone was skeptical, eyes roving over the innocuous metal weapons with an incredulous eye.

“I know they don’t look like much, but the Orlesians know, if nothing else, how to make a weapon so understated that no one realizes how deadly it can be.” She picked up the weapons and hefted them experimentally, twirling the batons for a moment in a dizzying whirl of glinting metal. Simple in design, they were equipped with a grip that stuck out perpendicular from the baton about two thirds of the way along the length and wider at the far end. The one in her right hand had a hook on the opposite side near the wide, blunt end. Winding up the length of the batons were shallow grooves that ended at the blunt tips of the weapons and, on the opposite end, Cassandra spied a deep, circular divot that she couldn’t decide the purpose of.

“They are…I don’t know, actually.”

“They are called tonfas, they are used primarily for defense, but my brother and I figured out a way to use them effectively offensively. Of course, I’ve yet to have need to use them in battle, thankfully, but I carry them nonetheless.”

Cassandra had a moment of epiphany, her mind’s eye flashing back to past mission with Trevelyan in her standard leather armor, bow and quiver on her back, daggers belted to her hips and those same weapons strapped at the small of her back, usually covered by her pack. “Why do you carry them if not to use them?”

“They are…a safeguard, I suppose. My last line of defense if I get in a bad way. I know how to use them,” Eve assured, twirling the tonfas in her grip lackadaisically, “I just have never had need to use them. No one’s ever gotten close enough to force my hand.” She shrugged and holstered the weapons at the small of her back and exited the cabin. They meandered toward the training field and saw Sera at the same time the elf spied them, Trevelyan speeding up excitedly while Cassandra lagged, muttering to herself and sighing in a put upon way.

“Bout time, Inky. Thought you’d gotten shiver-scared, gonna back out, right?”

“No way, Sera. This is just getting interesting.” She smiled coquettishly at Cassandra as the Seeker walked over and leaned against a training dummy standing several yards away, arms crossed as she observed the duo. “Besides, I’ve got a beautiful woman to impress now, can’t slack off.” She threw a wink in Cassandra’s direction, laughing as tan skin darkened with a blush and the Seeker sputtered incomprehensibly. Sera bounced excitedly on the balls of her feet as she pulled her daggers out of their sheaths, twirling them in her grip as the rogues began circling slowly.

“What – you are using real weapons?! Your Grace, this is madness!” Cassandra took a step toward them but stopped when Trevelyan raised one hand.

“It will be fine, Cassandra. Don’t worry, this is a good way to improve my reflexes.”

“It is foolhardy and reckless, we cannot afford you being injured in some misguided attempt to gain admirers!” The two ignored her words and ran at each other suddenly, the screech of metal on metal ripping across the field. Cassandra watched in entranced horror as Trevelyan flipped her grip and raised her forearms, stopping Sera’s quick horizontal swipe with the tonfas that were pressed to the length of her forearms. She pushed the elf away and jumped back as Sera recovered and chased her, cackling manically as Sera cursed when she couldn’t land a hit.

“Stop being all shifty-sneaky, Inky! It’s not fair to pretend to be Creepy!” She howled with impotent rage as her blades passed through empty air that had just been occupied by Trevelyan’s back. Cassandra held her breath when the woman spun suddenly and, with one tonfa, blocked Sera’s incoming strike, turning aside the blade as her other hand reversed her grip. The air audibly rushed out of Sera’s mouth as the blunt end hit her solidly in the stomach and she reflexively dropped her weapons. She quickly found the batons crossed over her neck, Trevelyan straddling her after kicking her to the ground with a cocky smirk and barely winded.

“Been holding back, huh, Inky? Got me under you now, whatcha gonna do?” Sera had the nerve to wink up at the woman, sticking her tongue out lewdly and making a face. Trevelyan laughed as she rolled off her and offered her hand to help Sera stand, handing her back her daggers as the elf sheepishly dusted herself off. Cassandra frowned when Sera reached up to straighten Trevelyan’s ruffled collar and leaned in closely, whispering to her before giggling and running off.

The rogue stared at her retreating form for a moment until Cassandra cleared her throat and walked over, sky blue eyes finding amber and shining happily. “So, was I up to expectations?” She twirled one tonfa idly as she returned the other to its sheath at her back and Cassandra crossed her arms.

“It was…enlightening. I do not see the appeal in such a defensive weapon, but it is clearly something you are adept at wielding so I will not say anything else.”

“Like I told you, Seeker, it’s not just a defensive weapon.” Suddenly, she thrust the tonfa out and caught the hook behind Cassandra’s bicep. “I’ve got a few surprises yet, my dear Seeker. Don’t get too comfortable.” She winked and released Cassandra, sliding the weapon into its sheath as she swaggered away, a little bit of extra sway in her hips that left the Seeker’s mind empty of thought and eyes uncharacteristically wide.


	2. The Chargers

Cassandra woke to the sounds of camp life, soldiers up doing their rounds and food cooking over campfires.  She sat up on her cot and stretched, the bracing cool morning air giving rise to goosebumps over her bare skin.  She pulled her tunic over her head and laced up her breeches quickly, fingers fumbling with her belt as she cinched it around her waist over her tabard.  She exited her tent with a cursory glance around, making a beeline for the nearest fire to break her fast.  As she munched on a thick slice of meat, she walked quickly toward the Chantry, determined to make some headway on a mission in the Hinterlands that had been evading them for some time. 

She was accosted on her way there by a few soldiers who were talking excitedly amongst themselves, hands gesturing in the air and grins on their faces.  “I saw her headed out to the training field, I swear it!  She had those Chargers with her, it looked like a sparring match!”

“Who’ll she fight, you think?  Not the Qunari, he’d put her down in a quick hurry.”

“I think I heard the little one, Krem, say he was going to fight her.  Imagine, the Herald going up against him!” 

Cassandra froze in her tracks and turned on her heel.  “You say the Herald is fighting Kremesius?”  The soldiers froze.  “Answer me!”

“Uhm, yes, Seeker Pentaghast, we watched her follow them out to the training field, she was-”

“Get back to your post, I will check on this.”  They didn’t fight her, only scurried back behind the walls of Haven, and Cassandra stalked down the hill.  She heard them first, the growling rumble of voices raised in cheer. 

“C’mon, Krem, hit her already!  Get back on your feet!  Maker, that’ll leave a bruise!” 

When she rounded the tents, she saw the bulk of the Chargers in a tight ring, Iron Bull towering over them with a grin on his scarred face and eye trained on the inner circle.  Cassandra pushed through the mercenaries to the edge of the ring, eyes widening as she took in the spectacle before her.  Krem was circling Trevelyan cautiously; a welt on his cheek visible and a telltale limp in his gait.  Opposite him, the rogue was smiling demurely, tonfas flat against her forearms and eyes twinkling merrily.  Uncharacteristically, she wore bracers that glinted in the morning light, and her soft soled boots slid through the dust silently as she shifted her stance. 

Krem was wielding his blade with both hands, obviously searching for a hole in her defenses.  With a cry, he bolted toward the rogue and slashed at her broadly, grunting as she leapt away from his swing and closed before he could recover, her right hand shooting out to grab his wrist with the curved hook on her weapon and yank him toward her.  Krem, off balance and just recovering from his swing, had no chance to avoid her boot that landed squarely in his gut, the air rushing from him and sending him staggering back.  Trevelyan skipped away from his half hearted swipe with a gauntleted fist and chuckled, ducking beneath his arm and shoving her shoulder into his chest, bringing the warrior down before she straddled him in a similar way to how she’d hovered over Sera several days prior. 

Her tonfas were crossed over his neck threateningly, the hook behind his neck just squeezing his throat enough to warn about his air being cut off, and he raised his hands.  “I yield…you…you win.”  He gasped for breath and she grinned before standing and offering her hand to pull him up, staggering beneath the weight of his armor. 

“Good round, you gave me pause a few times.” 

Krem rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly as one of the Chargers handed him his weapon.  “Yeah, but I couldn’t get a read on you.  Those things,” he waved at the tonfas dangling loosely in her grip, “were everywhere.” 

Trevelyan grinned and patted him on the shoulder.  “It’s rare to see anyone use them in a fight, so no one knows how to react.  Great strategy, yeah?”  He nodded and Iron Bull stepped up, large hand landing heavily on Krem’s shoulder. 

“You did good, Krem, but I think you need to study some more before trying that again.”

“Yeah, I think you’re right.”

“Okay, Chargers, form up for rounds.  We’ll be back for noon meal, so finish any business you have now!”  The mercenaries dispersed, Iron Bull and Cassandra lingering with the Herald on the empty grounds as she inspected her weapons for damage. 

“I thought you were done with this foolishness,” Cassandra said, striding closer as the rogue slid the tonfas home at the small of her back.  “Do you not court danger enough in the field without risking further injury here with your sparring?”

“Good morning to you as well, Seeker.”  Trevelyan’s eyes sparkled with mirth and the Iron Bull chuckled deeply.  “You saw that little match, did you?”

“Yes, and it seems you insist on taking risks when there is no point to it.  Kremesius was using his blade, not even wrapped with a cloth!  What were you thinking?”

“Well, I thought I could get a fun morning workout, for one.”  If Cassandra didn’t catch the playful tone of voice Trevelyan used, her wink and Bull’s ribald laughter clued her in to the joke, and she flushed.  “I also thought they might appreciate a different type of training, fighting something they had never gone up against before.  It’s always good to try something new, you know.”

“But you could have been hurt, and then where would we be?”

“Well, I imagine you’d be in the Chantry, yelling at me for being stupid as one of our resident mages patched me up.”  She waved off Cassandra’s indignant reply and held up her arm.  “Besides, I was fine.  That’s why I wore my bracers this morning, you see.”

“You _planned_ this?”

“That’s generally how these things go, Cassandra.  Or do you usually just accost young men and drag them off for a morning workout without warning?”  She accompanied the words with a waggle of her eyebrows and lewd gesture with her tongue.  Trevelyan barely choked back laughter when the Seeker gaped and sputtered, turning an alarming shade of red beneath her dusky skin.  She made a disgusted sound and stalked off, leaving the rogue and Iron Bull staring after her until she was out of sight.  They both broke down into riotous laughter, Trevelyan gasping with her hands on her knees and Bull’s hand curled over his stomach. 

“Boss, I gotta say, you’re either the smartest or the most ass-headed woman I’ve ever met.  You realize she’s going to kill you one of these days, right?”

“But what a way to go, Bull.”  Trevelyan stared after Cassandra wistfully and the Iron Bull clapped her on the shoulder. 

“You should just tell her, rather than dance around the subject like an Orlesian.”

“But this is so much more _fun_ , and I never get to have any fun anymore!  Besides, the thrill of the chase is part of the experience.”  She grinned up at him and trotted off toward the Chantry, no doubt to rib the Seeker some more before breaking her own fast and attending to her duties for the day. 

Iron Bull shook his horned head and chuckled, watching her disappear behind some tents.  “You’ve got it bad, Boss.  But there are certainly worse choices out there, and the Seeker seems like a good woman.  Good on you.”


	3. The Mire

“I… _hate…_ demons!” 

Trevelyan thrust her daggers through one’s chest, the swell of accomplishment at its scream ebbing when something heavy hit her from behind and sending her flying.  Her chin scraped across the broken cobblestones that paved the roads dotting the Fallow Mire and one dagger flew into the murk surrounding them, barely keeping hold of the other as she was unceremoniously kicked in the side by a skeleton and rolled several more feet.  She gasped for air and dived out of the way of a rusted sword, scrabbling for purchase on the slick stones and mud beneath her feet.  Once she gained her feet, she found herself squaring off against a skeletal warrior, rags and the remnants of armor hanging off its bones with a demon closing ranks quickly behind it. 

Her left hand, empty for the moment, twitched as the nearby rift sparked in the air, a thread of pain shooting up her arm.  She gritted her teeth and spun out of the way of the skeleton’s clumsy swing, jabbing her dagger at its back and sending it reeling.  Before it could recover, she handily dismembered it, leaving a pile of bones and dust in her wake.  She faced down the demon that was upon her next, unsurprised she would be facing it alone.  Her companions were all facing down their own enemies, the Inquisition soldiers that had accompanied them drawing attention so their more powerful leaders could deal fatal blows. 

She heard Cassandra shout as she ran at a demon, shield before her to throw it off balance.  On the far side, well away from the main fighting, Vivienne spun her staff and threw spells at the main body of the group of enemies, each missile impacting against the skeletons and turning them to dust.  Iron Bull was laughing, swinging his maul with abandon, and the brittle sound of bones being hit by a solid weight made her smile even as she dived out of the way of the demon’s claws.  Her eyes searched frantically for her second dagger, but the mist that perpetually hung over the Mire obscured everything in soft shades of gray, even muting the sounds of battle to a dull roar.  She growled irately and swiped at her enemy, driving it back as she tried to think of a plan. 

“I’ve always been fond of jumping first.  Might as well have some fun.”  She shrugged and sheathed her dagger, drawing her tonfas with a smooth motion and holding them defensively against her forearms.  The demon paused and a hoarse chuckle like stones grating together set her teeth on edge.  It roared and rushed at her, the rogue’s fast footwork keeping her out of arms’ reach and barely managing to avoid the uneven stones that sought to trip her up.  The rift sparked again and two more demons appeared, roaring and making a beeline for her. 

Her companions were struggling to dispatch the last two enemies on the far side of the rift, a stubborn rage demon and a shriek that kept eluding their grasps.  Trevelyan felt panic flutter at the edges of her mind and stubbornly pushed it away, reversing her grip on her weapons and hitting the closest demon with the edge of one tonfa.  Its arm swung limply at its side when she hit its shoulder and it roared in pain, hovering cautiously but unwilling to close with her again.  Trevelyan smiled grimly, regretting not bringing any more of her companions, and took a deep breath in the brief respite. 

“Only going to explore a little, I said.  What’s the worst that could happen, I said.  A bigger group makes a bigger target, I said.  I’m blowing air out my arse, I say!” 

She struck at one of the approaching demons, the blunt end of her weapon smacking it in the face and driving it back.  In the next lull, Trevelyan tore open a small pouch at her waist, digging through it for the items inside.  She pulled out two small stones with rune etchings and pushed them into the impressions at the end of her tonfas, skipping backwards out of reach of a clawed sweep, and yelled happily as yellow light shot long the length of the grooves lining her weapons, spinning them dangerously with a glint in her eyes. 

“Alright, you bastards, you want to fight?  Let’s _fight!_ ”  She rushed them, ducking beneath an attack and throwing herself at the one directly in front of her.  She drove the tip of her weapons into its front and listened to it scream as lightning coursed through its body.  The demon writhed and shrunk, the scent of sulfur filling the rogue’s nose as it disappeared.  She sunk low and spun around, tonfas reaching far to keep the remaining two demons as bay, and rolled out of the way of a gout of fire.  She heard her companions shouting, the faint thud of feet vibrating through her as they closed the distance to protect her.  “Not this time…I’m finishing this myself.”  She leapt at the next demon and wove around its frantic attacks, hissing as a claw glanced off her side but using the momentum it generated to spin and drive her foot into its gut.  It reeled and she smacked it with one tonfa, staggering it and pushing the tip of her other into its skin, sneering as it turned to ash. 

“Herald!  Behind you!” 

Blistering heat washed over her side as she pulled her weapon free and she lurched away, grimacing as the partially melted pauldron seared her skin through her and tunic.  She swung blindly and grunted when she felt the edge of her tonfa hit something solid.  Turning her eyes to her last opponent, she saw her friends were nearly upon them, concern etched deeply into Cassandra’s face as she led them at a dead run.  Trevelyan threw herself at the demon, beating it with one tonfa and blocking its haphazard attacks with her other tucked against her forearm.  When it tried to back away, she pressed both ends to its head and pushed, arms trembling as its hands scratched at her bracers, the molten heat beneath its skin transferring through her armor and burning her skin.  “Die, you bastard!”  With a final cry the demon was vanquished and the rogue stumbled with the sudden lack of opposing pressure at her front. 

“Herald, are you okay?!”  Cassandra skidded to a stop before her and reached out, worry clearly evident as her amber eyes catalogued every cut and scrape visible on her skin, lingering at the welling warmth Trevelyan felt running down her throat. 

The rogue held both weapons in her right hand and lifted her left to the rift, feeling the mark draw on her fast fading reserves as it closed the tear with a burst of energy.  Her legs trembled, buckled as the full weight of her injuries hit her, and she waited for the harsh impact of cobblestones against her skin, but felt only soft, giving pressure instead. 

“Herald?  Trevelyan, dammit, open your eyes!”  The rogue forced her heavy lids up and found Cassandra cradling her protectively.  “You idiot!  What were you thinking?”

“I can’t let you have all the fun, Seeker,” Trevelyan said weakly. 

Vivienne crouched on her other side and her fingers, cool from the ever-present mist, pressed against her pulse point gently.  “She will be fine, Lady Pentaghast, once we get her back to camp and I can thoroughly ascertain her injuries.”  Cassandra’s jaw clenched and she looked ready to argue, and Vivienne arched a brow.  “Unless you _want_ me to remove her armor and outer clothes here, amongst the rain and insects, of course?”

“…no, of course not.  Come, Your Grace.”  Cassandra stooped and helped Trevelyan to her feet, keeping a hold of her when she swayed dangerously and her legs threatened to buckle again. 

“Alright, Boss, enough heroics today.”  Without preamble, Bull picked her up in his arms and she, too exhausted and sore to fight, turned her face against his chest.  She felt more than heard him chuckle, the rumble reverberating through her as his grip shifted more securely.  “I got ya, just rest, Boss.  Seeker, you wanna grab those little rods of hers?” 

Trevelyan managed a weak chuckle and muttered, “Mine are still bigger than yours, Bull, no matter what you say.  I lost my dagger somewhere nearby, too.”

“We’ll come back and look later.  We’re almost to camp, alright?”  Trevelyan nodded against his chest and let herself be lulled into a half-asleep state by the gentle rocking of his arms and steady thud of his pulse.  She heard footsteps come upon them and Cassandra’s voice just barely drew her out of her reverie, quiet over the gentle rain that started falling. 

“How is she, Bull?”

“More hurt than she’s letting on, I think, Seeker.  I can smell the burnt flesh and blood on her, but can’t see anything other than that nasty bit on her chin.”

“She can be so…so _reckless_ , sometimes.  Why does she insist on doing these things all the time?”  Despite her ire, the Seeker’s voice remained low, barely audible, and Trevelyan forced herself to continue listening instead of passing out as she so desperately wished to do. 

“Ah, she’s no different than you, Seeker…now, now, don’t give me that look, you know I’m right.  You throw yourself into every battle with abandon, only difference is, you’ve got a shield to protect you.  She’s got nothing but her fast feet and mind to keep herself from being injured. 

“Just before she passed out, she said she lost one of her daggers in the murk.  That’s probably why she drew those…uhm, tonfas, right?  Yeah.  Pissed her right off, too, I bet.  Those daggers are her _asala_ , I can’t tell you how often I’d find her caring for them after a battle or in camp.  We need to find it tomorrow, once the piss color that passes for daylight here is back.”

“She _lost_ her…yes, we need to retrieve it.  After there is sufficient light, you and I shall find it, Bull.”

“As you say, Seeker.” 

The two lapsed into silence and Trevelyan lost her fight with consciousness, lulled by the steady steps of the soldiers around them and her own pulse pounding behind her eyes.


	4. The Revelation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Little note letting you guys know there is a description of a rather nasty wound Trevelyan acquires in this chapter. Nothing too horrible, but so you all are aware, it is there.

Cassandra followed Iron Bull silently into camp, the soldiers breaking off to tend to their wounds, and held back the Herald’s tent flap for him.  He ducked to avoid gouging holes in the canvas with his horns and carefully laid her on her cot, stepping back to eye her seriously.  “I think this is something you need to do, Seeker.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Take care of her.”  Without another word, the massive Qunari wandered over to the fire and stood near it beneath the cover of a three sided shelter that kept the rain off the soldiers. 

Cassandra scrutinized him but, when it became apparent he wouldn’t look her way, shook her head and ducked inside the tent.  Vivienne followed her and set her staff aside as they knelt on opposite sides of the rogue, watching her breathe for a moment and allowing the last vestiges of adrenaline to wear off.  Cassandra’s shoulders sagged and her armor suddenly felt heavy, stifling in the relative warmth inside. 

“We should remove her armor first, Seeker.”

“Yes, of course.”  Cassandra set to work as Vivienne prepared a paste from herbs she’d grabbed outdoors, unbuckling Trevelyan’s armor and pulling it away from her chainmail gently.  The leathers she wore over her chest and torso were singed in places, small holes dotting the otherwise maintained armor.  Her right pauldron was a melted mess of metal, unsalvageable for even repairs.  Cassandra felt bile rise when she struggled to pull it away and Trevelyan twitched, moaning quietly.  “Vivienne…”

“Yes, it seems quite stuck, doesn’t it?”  Vivienne circled the mangled pauldron, index finger slipping beneath the edge briefly.  “I think the heat melted it to her skin.  We need to remove it before I can do anything.”  She dug through her pack and pulled a small, slim knife out, inspecting the edge as Cassandra paled, hands white knuckled on her thighs.  “Even unconscious, she will struggle.  I cannot do anything for that unfortunately, the ability is beyond my ken, so you must hold her still, my dear.  Can you do that?”  Vivienne stared at her seriously, her normally superior attitude absent for the moment. 

Cassandra nodded resolutely and straddled Trevelyan’s waist, sitting on her thighs and pressing her hands against her chest, trapping the rogue’s hands against her hips with her knees.  “I am ready.”

“Keep a firm hand, Seeker.”  Vivienne pulled the pauldron as far away as she could and the knife slipped under, her face a mask of concentration as she began her work.  Trevelyan moaned louder and weakly struggled, eyes screwed shut as skin was separated from metal.  As Vivienne continued working, her writhing increased and Cassandra sat more firmly on her hips, tightening her grip to keep her arms from moving and keeping her pinned to the cot.  

“Almost there, just another minute, dear…”  The mage’s voice was strained as she cut skin, a deep furrow appearing between her brows as her other hand lifted the ruined pauldron higher to cut the last of burnt skin away.  By the time she tossed the armor into a corner, tears were falling from the corner of Trevelyan’s eyes, her breath was coming harshly, and she was paler than normal. 

Vivienne pushed a rag under her shoulder so the newly bleeding wound wouldn’t stain her cot and sat back, staring at her bloody hands with distaste.  “Times like these make me wish Solas were here instead, he is so much more adept with this craft than I.” 

Cassandra swallowed and tore her eyes away from the Herald’s trembling body, meeting Vivienne’s eyes flatly.  “He insisted on staying in Haven to do research on this Elder One we’ve heard so much about.  Can you heal her?”

“Of course, my dear, I may not be as proficient as our elven mage, but I can do this much.”  Her hands glowed faintly green, reminiscent of the mark currently sleeping beneath Trevelyan’s skin, and she paused over her shoulder.  “It will leave a scar though, I’m afraid.  Burns are beyond my ken, but I can stop the bleeding at the very least.”

“Do it.” 

With a nod, Vivienne pressed her palms to the open wound and shut her eyes, focusing on the magic thrumming beneath her skin.  She murmured indecipherably under her breath, hands fluttering at the ragged edges of skin, and Cassandra watched the wound slowly weave together.  When Vivienne pulled away, Trevelyan’s shoulder was whole but the area that had been burnt was a lighter color than the rest of her skin, a sunburst pattern indelibly marking the area. 

“Now, for the rest of her.  Help me disrobe her?” 

Cassandra carefully slid off the rogue’s hips and held her upright as the mage slid her chainmail over her head, followed by her tunic and the belt containing her poisons, throwing knives, and her tonfas, then laid her back down and pulled her boots and greaves off.  When Trevelyan was down to her breeches and breast binding, Vivienne ghosted her hands over her body, hands glowing once more. 

“There are many small cuts, those are no problem.  The biggest injuries she sustained are the wound on her shoulder, this lovely mark on her chin,” gesturing at the dried blood lining her jaw and throat, “and a few more small burns on her side and her forearms.”  She began healing the worst injuries silently before closing the minor wounds efficiently.  “Now, if that’s all, dear, you may want to clean her up and let her sleep.  Do you need any healing?”

“No, I am unharmed.”  Vivienne nodded and picked up her staff, pausing when Cassandra said quietly, “Thank you, Vivienne.”

“You are welcome, my dear.  Take care of her.” 

The mage swept out of the tent, leaving Cassandra with a curious frown.  She grabbed a clean rag and wet it in a bucket sitting outside the tent, returning to kneel beside the rogue.  As she cleaned the dried blood from Trevelyan’s skin, Cassandra marked each scar, small and large, that dotted her body from her time before the Inquisition.  Her skin was dotted with freckles, clusters gathering on her shoulders and disappearing beneath her chest binds, and Cassandra found they continued over her lightly muscled stomach before scattering across her hips. 

She shook herself out of her staring contest with the velvet soft looking skin beneath Trevelyan’s navel and felt heat burst in her cheeks.  “She is your _superior_ , Cassandra, you cannot feel this…”  She muttered to herself as she dunked the rag in the bucket again, removing the blood and wringing it out to clean her face.  She gently washed the blood from her throat and ghosted the rag over her chin until she was certain the wound was closed completely. 

As her free hand cupped the rogue’s cheek to keep her head still, she found herself caught by the softness of her skin and paused, thumb sweeping over the arch of her cheekbone absently.  Trevelyan hummed and shifted and Cassandra startled, freezing in place and staring wide eyed at the Herald until she was certain the woman was only moving in sleep and not waking up.  “Get a hold of yourself…”  She brusquely finished cleaning the blood from Trevelyan’s skin and stooped for a blanket, discarded on a chest.  As she covered the rogue, she slowed again and only reluctantly left the tent, walking into the rain and coming to stand next to her companions under the shelter by the fire. 

“How’s Boss doing?”

“Sleeping for the moment, I believe.”

“Good, sounded like she was hurting there for a while.”  Cassandra’s head whipped around to Bull and he pointed at his ears.  “These aren’t just for show, Seeker.  I hear _a lot_.” 

His eyes twinkled knowingly and Cassandra felt herself flush again, anger and embarrassment coloring her skin in equal measure.  “You – you did not-”

“I did.  Don’t worry, I won’t say anything, but you two are the most infuriating women I’ve ever had the pleasure of meeting, you know?”

“There is _nothing_ to say!  What are you insinuating?” 

Cassandra’s eyes narrowed in warning and Bull only grinned, pulling his cloak around his shoulders.  “I’m not _insinuating_ anything, Seeker.  I’m _saying_ you two need to be locked in a room to figure your…issues, out.  I can help with that if you want.  You see, you just push her onto the bed, and then-”

“Shut your mouth, Qunari,” Cassandra hissed, leaving the shelter and stalking to the far side of camp as Bull began laughing.  She avoided the tent holding the Herald with obstinate fury, willing the Maker to strike down The Iron Bull, or at least remove his remaining eye.


	5. The Answer

Cassandra left the War Room feeling disgruntled, annoyed, frustrated, and a host of other adjectives that described her feelings for the meeting she had just left.  “That foolhardy, imbecilic woman.  Barely a week after being injured in the Mire, and she wants to go back out into the field!  If I had my way, I would-”

“Tie me up in your room, Seeker?”  Cassandra, startled from her muttering, swung around, fist cocked to hit whoever had snuck up on her, and found her arm arrested by calloused fingers.  Trevelyan smirked as her thumb smoothed over the sensitive skin on the inside of her wrist.  “Keep me under your beautiful eyes until I came to my senses?  You may have to wait a while, if that’s the case.”

“You are incorrigible.”

“You love it.”  They both froze, and Trevelyan cleared her throat uncomfortably.  “Besides, if I don’t get back out there soon, I’ll go stir crazy.”

“You are not completely healed, you need time so the skin becomes flexible again.”

“And I’ll never regain that flexibility cooped up here amongst the trees and fresh mountain air.  How about a compromise?”  The glint in her eyes put the Seeker on edge, but she nodded for the rogue to continue speaking.  “I’ll spar with someone for the week, work my shoulder and make sure it’s _flexible_ enough for you.” 

The wink thrown in at the end of her sentence made Cassandra flush and she yanked her arm out of Trevelyan’s grip.  “And who do you propose you spar with?”

“Well, I was thinking Bull-”

“ _No!_   You will only worsen your injury!”

“Then I could use Sera, she would be certain to give me a good workout.  Or Blackwall, ooh, there’s an idea!”

“ _Herald._ ”

“Well, there’s always Krem, he did say he was itching for a rematch…”

“I will not allow it,” Cassandra swore vehemently. 

The Herald’s eyes glinted mischievously and she shrugged nonchalantly.  “Well then, if you won’t allow me to spar with any of them, I suppose _you_ will have to fill the spot then.”

“ _Me?_ ”

“ _You._ ”  Trevelyan was clearly enjoying herself, if the curl in her lips was any indicator, and Cassandra felt her temper spike at the self-assured expression in her eyes.  “You won’t allow me to spar with anyone else, and I refuse to be idle a moment longer, so unless you want to make good on your fantasy of tying me up…”

“That was you, do not put words in my mouth!” 

The rogue waved her hand through the air like clearing smoke.  “Semantics, my dear Seeker.  To return to my original query, will you spar with me?” 

Cassandra’s first instinct was to tell the woman off completely, but then she paused and thought about the consequences of that.  If she did not keep an eye on Trevelyan, the woman would certainly seek out one of their companions for a match, or a soldier if no one else was available, and they would almost certainly be goaded into fighting hard if the rogue used her bladed tongue to antagonize them.  Likewise, she didn’t dare entertain the thought of dragging Trevelyan into her tent and watching her the entire day.  Disregarding her own boredom if she didn’t do anything constructive, she shuddered to think of the gossip that would abound if anyone saw that spectacle unfold. 

“…fine, I shall spar with you.” 

Trevelyan grinned and grabbed Cassandra’s hand, dragging her eagerly out of the Chantry and down the hillside, past the gated walls to the training field.  Cassandra stumbled when her hand was released and Trevelyan rounded on her, already drawing her tonfas from their sheaths at her back and standing in a defensive stance with the weapons gripped loosely at her sides. 

“Do not think I will let you get away with any stupidity, Herald.”  Cassandra warned as she tossed her cloak a ways away and drew her sword, shield strapped to her other arm.  They slowly circled each other, the rogue pouting a little and darting forward to test Cassandra’s defenses.  The Seeker blocked the straightforward attack with her shield and watched Trevelyan over the top. 

“You’re no fun, Cassandra.  That’s half the fun of sparring.”  Cassandra snorted and took a step forward.  “Ooh, someone’s feeling frisky.  Eager to get sweaty with me?” 

Cassandra growled at the insolent wink the rogue threw her way and suddenly rushed forward, letting her attack carry her past Trevelyan when she quickly sidestepped and pivoting to face her again.  “You are being purposefully antagonizing.”

“Aw, you’ve figured out my game.  Damn.”  Trevelyan smiled widely and practically danced toward her, dodging Cassandra’s shield push and scoring a weak smack on her bicep with her weapon.  “First hit to me,” she sang. 

Cassandra’s eyes darkened, gleaming with intent as she shuffled closer, feet poised to move quickly should the need arise.  “Do not get cocky, Herald.  This is only just begun.”

“And that’s another thing,” she said as she turned aside a thrust from the Seeker, “you always call me by the lovely moniker I was saddled with when I walked out of the Fade.  You know I have an actual name, right?” 

Cassandra lunged at her and found her attack thwarted once more by the tonfa with the two grips, the hooked end catching her blade and holding it for a moment before she yanked it free.  “You are my superior, it would be improper to address you as anything less than my better.”

“I disagree, I think it would be very prop – whoa!”  Trevelyan had to backpedal when Cassandra unexpectedly swiped her sword at her arm, listening to the quiet hum as the metal cleaved through the air.  “Getting a little bold, aren’t we, Seeker?  I don’t usually let women take my hand until _after_ I’ve begun courting them, but then you always are determined to do things in the wrong order, aren’t you?” 

The rogue closed the distance and pressed herself against Cassandra’s shield, rendering it useless as the Seeker couldn’t get any leverage.  Every step Cassandra took to get away, the rogue mirrored perfectly in reverse, and she found herself rapidly losing her temper.  “Stop being a coward and fight me!”

“I thought you didn’t want me fighting though?”  Trevelyan pouted and halved the distance between their faces, warm breath puffing against the Seeker’s cheek.  “You like a little resistance, the give and take.  It’s thrilling, isn’t it?  Knowing that, inevitably, someone will have to give up the upper hand and the other will win.  The chase is half the fun, right, Seeker?”  Trevelyan daringly pressed her lips to the scar on Cassandra’s jaw and then took several long leaps back, narrowly avoiding a shield to her nose as Cassandra charged her. 

The Seeker swung powerfully and slowly drove the rogue toward the edge of the training field, not yielding an inch or giving Trevelyan a space to try and force her on the defensive.  “You…you push and push…”  Her accent grew heavier with exertion and emotion, eyes sparking over her shield as she rushed the rogue once more.  Trevelyan narrowly dodged but Cassandra had prepared for it and her sword appeared out of thin air, turn aside so the flat of the blade smacked her solidly in the gut.  The air rushed from her as she bowed over, backpedaling wildly and flailing her tanfo to maintain some space to regain her breath.  Cassandra stalked toward her predatorily, shield hanging to the side and the point of her blade swaying hypnotizingly as she neared the rogue.  “You give no ground willingly, so it must be taken, and forced…you think you control every scenario, don’t you, Trevelyan?” 

The rogue straightened, tanfos dangling limply at her sides as she stared at the Seeker, who had halved the distance between them already and was quickly closing the remainder.  “Now, Cassandra-”

“No.  You wanted a chase, didn’t you?  Can you not stomach being on the receiving end of what you give so often, _Herald?_ ”           With a final stride, Cassandra was firmly inside Trevelyan’s personal space, charging the little distance between them with a current that made the rogue’s hair stand on end.  “Well?  What have you to say for yourself?  You cannot always be the one to be the aggressor, sometimes you must-” 

Cassandra was cut off as Trevelyan pressed her lips against hers, exhaling through her nose in surprise.  She tried to push the rogue away but found her wrists caught in disarmingly elegant hands, long fingers shackled over her thin gloves and thumbs rubbing over the inside of her wrist soothingly.  As Trevelyan pulled away, Cassandra realized she had closed her eyes and snapped them open, finding an unusually shy looking woman just barely meeting her gaze.  Sky blue eyes skipped over her features like a caress and the Seeker flushed, watching her try and speak unsuccessfully. 

“You have – I mean…I apologize for being forward,” she eventually settled on, expression hopeful but guarded.  “I didn’t mean to do that, but I won’t apologize for kissing you.  I’ve wanted to do _that_ for a while now.”  She smiled impishly, fingers tapping a rhythm over her gloves.  “Although, I expected you to be more _aggressive_ after that last demonstration.  Not all shy and kitten-like.” 

Cassandra blinked mutely and Trevelyan took the opportunity to pick up and sheath her tonfas, remove the Seeker’s sword from her hand, setting it aside gingerly and unbuckle her shield to drop it on the ground.  She slowly edged up against Cassandra, one hand framing her jaw while the other danced on her hip.  “Cassandra?  Say something?  You can even yell at me if you want, I promise not to be mad.”  Her thumb traced the long scar on her cheek, blue eyes staring into amber as she waited for a response. 

Cassandra lifted her hands and Trevelyan flinched like she was expecting to be slapped, surprise flitting through her eyes when the Seeker merely draped a hand over her recently healed shoulder and pulled her closer so their breath mingled between them.  “Show me again,” she whispered. 

Trevelyan grinned.  “With pleasure.”  She captured Cassandra’s lips again, tilting her head to the side to deepen the kiss and tightening her grip on Cassandra’s hip.  Her other hand continued to ghost over her jaw, occasionally trembling against her skin as Cassandra daringly slipped her tongue out to play at the seam of her lips. 

Before long, the Seeker pulled back far enough to look Trevelyan in the eyes, a nervous look in her own, although she remained in the circle of her arms.  “Herald…”

“Will you allow me to court you, Cassandra?”

“I…but, you are…”

“Devilishly attractive?” 

Cassandra scowled, although it was tempered with an amused light in her eyes, and Trevelyan darted in to kiss the corner of her lips.  “You are a woman, you are my superior, you-”

“May die tomorrow, that’s _why_ I asked.  Normally, I would wait until we’d known each other longer than a few months, but with the Breach literally hanging over our heads…I don’t want to regret anything, Cassandra.  Can you understand that?” 

Cassandra paused as she spoke and reached out to tangle her fingers in loose, blonde hair, guiding Trevelyan closer to kiss her lips chastely.  “I can, but can you see my concerns, as well?  I don’t want anyone in the Inquisition _or outside_ to see me as a way to you.  I become a liability if we get…closer.  You have already been injured.”  She gently pressed her fingers against the healed skin, tracing the light patch of skin with her thumb.

“I understand, Cassandra, I do.  But you know something?”  Trevelyan dropped both hands to Cassandra’s waist and pulled her tight against her body, leaning in to breathe against her lips, “I don’t give a damn.”  She reclaimed the Seeker’s lips hotly, moaning when her lips parted and her tongue slipped out to trace her teeth.  They broke apart breathlessly, flushed and panting as the rogue’s hands felt the muscle coiling underneath Cassandra’s tunic and tabard. 

“Say yes?” 

Slowly, a smile crawled across Cassandra’s lips, hope and caution warring in amber eyes.  “Yes.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! If you have any prompts for me, let me know!


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